a crisp white bun with nothing on the log,

my friend, Zoe, her lunches are bizarre,

and yesterday she got me a hot dog—

I gagged, but she insisted (in my car).

with ketchup—she said, “Always I dip it,

but never onions on because it’s lame.”

I said, “What if that is how I like it?”

“But no,” she said. “It always stays the same.”

I swear to God, I’ve tried to warn my friend—

‘Cause who would want to date someone like that?

But Zoe always chooses to defend

her poor, poor choices, ‘cause—she is a brat.

I only want hot dogs with certain things:

Some mustard and a side of onion rings.